


Evening Sets

by TriplePirouette



Series: Breathe Symphonies [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-02
Updated: 2012-03-02
Packaged: 2017-11-01 00:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriplePirouette/pseuds/TriplePirouette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the “I Will Not Kiss You” Universe, Set a few hours after Morning Breaks. Part three of the Breathe Symphonies series.  “He thought about spending the night in the guest room down the hall, or even the couch, but the new memories, as fake as they are, still hold some power and emotion in him. No place but beside his Jolie  his Belle would feel quite right.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evening Sets

**Author's Note:**

> There was such an overwhelmingly WONDERFUL response to “I Will Not Kiss You” and “Morning Breaks”! Thank you to everyone who reviewed! This Universe is simply CALLING to me. At least two more pieces in it, then we'll see what happens after that. 
> 
> I'm trying a different format here, let me know if it fails miserably. Regular type is Storybrooke, italics is the Fairytale world. I'm also continuing my use of intermittent italics to be the “memory” so to speak, so let me know if this reads horribly.

 

He knocks before he enters.

 

_He knocks on her door. She doesn't say anything, but a moment later the door opens, her eyes shyly peaking out. He has stopped to see if there is anything she needs. He has let her out of the dungeon, after all, he should see to her comfort if she is to be treated as a guest._

 

Technically it is their room, but the memories of marriage are as fabricated as everything else in this town. The memory of him knocking on her door that night in the castle, that is the real memory. The balance they've found since this morning is delicate; they've spent months apart since he left the castle, they've only ever shared a handful of intimate moments together, and none more intimate than this morning when she wasn't even conscious of who she truly was.

 

He thought about spending the night in the guest room down the hall, or even the couch, but the new memories, as fake as they are, still hold some power and emotion in him. No place but beside his Jolie _his Belle_ would feel quite right.

 

“ _You knocked?” she asks, surprised._

 

_He screws up his face in consternation. “Can't very well barge in on a lady, now can I?”_

 

_He's playing with her, but she's still surprised at the sentiment. “I'm a lady?”_

 

_He huffs, a high pitched laugh never quite leaving the back of his throat. “Well you're certainly not a man.”_

 

_Belle holds back the chuckle, but can't keep the slight blush off of her face. Not the same level of compliments that she used to get at court, but from this man they are high praise indeed._

 

“You don't have to knock,” her voice carries through the door. He pushes it open and slips in to find her staring at the contents of an open drawer.

 

“I wanted to...” He doesn't know how to finish the sentence, or even if it needs finishing, so he lets it die on his lips.

 

She smiles appreciatively at him over her shoulder, a blush rising in her cheeks. “I knew under that reputation there was a gentleman.” She shrugs and looks back down into the dresser drawer. “Besides, I think you'll find that if you begin to think about it, you'll see we have some quite intimate memories of one another.”

 

He rests his cane on the dresser, sitting and letting his mind turn inward for a moment. He blinks in surprise. “So we do.” Belle, _Jolie_ his mind reminds him, pulls out a satin night gown and balls it in her hands before sitting beside him, their hips barely touching. He knows that look on her face too well, it began many evening conversations back in the castle, something is on her mind. He folds his hands in his lap and waits.

 

“I didn't know which one to pick,” she says, holding up the nightgown for him to see. It's soft blue, demure but thin. “These clothes are mine...but they're not. Every time I have a memory that isn't a memory I...” She sighs, pulling the fabric back into her lap. She turns to him, expecting to see a silly face or a look of indifference, but he's no longer possessed by the Dark Magic. His human face is open and waiting patiently for her to continue. “It's silly, but I'm afraid to go to sleep.” She twists the nightgown in her hands. He lets his hand reach over and rest on her knee, the gesture a show of comfort and solidarity as she continues. “Last time I went to sleep, I woke up and forgot my entire life. I... I don't want to go to sleep and forget this.”

 

He takes his hand from her knee and drapes it over her shoulders, pulling her to his side. “You will not forget, dearie. The curse doesn't work like that.”

 

She presses her head to his shoulder, taking a deep breath in, “But what if I do?”

 

His voice catches briefly, but he clears it away quickly and speaks firmly. “Then I will kiss you every morning until you remember.” He reaches over and untangles the nightgown from her death grip, running his fingers through hers until they relax. “Get ready for bed. It's been a long day.”

 

She smiles up at him. “Taking care of me now, are you?”

 

He takes her hand in his properly, letting his fingers rub over her band of shining gold. “High time I started, don't you think?”

 

“ _Was there something you needed, sir?” she asks quietly, still only peaking her head out of the door._

 

_His top lip curls up. “Sir?”_

 

“ _What else am I to call you?”_

 

“ _I do have a name...” he draws out, condescension in his voice._

 

“ _So you do, but Rumpelstiltskin is a bit of a mouthful at this time of night, don't you think?”_

 

_He twitters a laugh, the darkness in him twisting her words to have a lusty, wicked meaning. She stares at him, waiting for a cue as to why her words are funny. He coughs away the laugh. “Rum or Rumpel will suffice. Anything but sir.”His voice softens. “You are my guest, now.”_

 

_She can't help but tease him back, especially after that laughing fit that she doesn't understand. “Does that mean you'll be making me breakfast?”_

 

_His voice is flat, and she knows by now he's joking, though many would think he's being serious. “Dungeon's still unoccupied if you'd rather.”_

 

They get ready for bed in silence, the odd ritual one that they both know, but never had a hand in creating. He tries not to look as she undresses; she's right- he has cache of erotic memories that in a former life were mere fantasies. He knows what she looks like completely naked. He knows the curves of her body intimately. He knows what touches make her moan and which make her writhe in pleasure, yet, he has never truly touched her like this.

 

He moves slowly, shedding the suit in favor of a shirt and soft flannel pants: clothes he knows he loves to sleep in, but also has never worn.

 

They brush their teeth side by side. _Toothbrush. So novel and yet, such a wonderful invention_. She brushes her hair as he leans into the mirror, examining the gold in his grin.

 

As easily as if they'd been doing it for years, they make their way through the routine until they are both laying in bed in the darkness, a no man's land of empty mattress between them. They stare at the ceiling until the silence, devoid of even a cricket's chirp, is too much.

 

“I expect nothing that you are unwilling to give,” he whispers to the ceiling, twisting his wedding ring around his finger. It is a symbol of a promise that neither of them consciously made.

 

She reaches across the chasm between them, taking his hand in hers and bridging the gap. “Don't tell anyone I said this, but I always knew you were a gentleman.”

 

He shifts to his side, looking across the space set between them and grasping her hand tightly. He wants to deny it, knows that when they first met there were very few gentlemanly things about him, but he feels a lightness that he hasn't felt since he was a human, an ability to joke, to laugh, to smile now that she's here. “Don't go telling that to anyone, you'll ruin my reputation.”

 

He sees the far away expression that means she's sifting through all of the memories, new and old. She rolls to face him, moving just a little closer. Her voice is very nearly sad. “I don't think you'll have a problem with that. She's made you quite the disliked man here.”

 

His whisper is not nearly as maudlin, “I was quite the disliked man there, as well.”

 

She shifts closer once again, leaving only inches and their hands between their bodies. “Not by me. I liked you quite a bit.”

 

He smiles at her. “Never understood that, myself.” He pulls their linked hands up to his lips, pressing a fervent kiss on her knuckles. She says nothing, but closes the space between their bodies, wrapping around and against him like a missing puzzle piece. “And I thank all that is holy that you do,” he whispers into her hair.

 

“ _No, no,” she declines his offer of the dungeon as if she's turning down an offer of tea. “I do believe this room suits me.”_

 

“ _Then I shall give you leave,” he says, sweeping a deep bow. His head pokes up, though his hand stays pressed forward, his foot out in the dramatic gesture. “Unless there is something else you need for this evening?”_

 

_Belle shakes her head, and with a bright smile, dips a curtsey of her own that he can only tell is there by the way her head and shoulders dip in the crack of the door. “Good evening, s-” she starts to say sir, but catches herself. “Good evening, Rumpel.”_

 

_He straightens, watching as she presses the door slowly closed, waiting for the hitch of the latch on the other side. It does not come. He stands for a moment, knowing he would have heard it, and finally knocks on her door again._

 

_Once again only her face peaks out. “I'm sorry, have you forgotten something?”_

 

“ _You didn't latch the lock, dearie.” He states, trying to keep his confusion from showing._

 

“ _No, I didn't.” She leans against the edge of the door, waiting for his line of thinking to make sense to her._

 

_His hands fly up dancing around his shoulders. “Why not?”_

 

_She shrugs, looking out into the hall. “We are alone in the castle, correct?” He nods sharply. “Are there any wee beasties I should be afraid of? Tiny dragons or evil fairies that know how to work a door?”_

 

“ _Just you and me, dearie,” he says, tiptoeing this ground carefully._

 

_She just shakes her head. “And you knocked.” She laughs as his face can't hide the shock, the way his whole head jumps back and his eyebrows play on his forehead, the tiny wrinkle in his nose as if he's disgusted with the idea that he really had knocked. “Good night, Rumpelstiltskin.”_

 

_Her door shuts quietly, and still he hears no latch catch. Rumpelstiltskin walks away slowly, tapping his fingers together and wondering what quite just happened._

 

After a quiet moment, she speaks, the feeling vibrating from her chest into his. “If I forget tomorrow?”

 

He squeezes her tightly. “I will kiss you.”

 

A yawn interrupts her first attempt at speaking, so she tries again, her voice a little deeper. “And if I forget the day after that?”

 

His lips dip a kiss onto her forehead, moving intimately against her skin as he speaks, “I will kiss you then, too.”

 

She snuggles as close as she can get to him, slipping her knee between his legs and tucking her chin to his chest. Her words mumble out, just on the edge of sleep. “And if I remember tomorrow?”

 

He smiles, shutting his eyes tightly. “I will kiss you anyway.”  


End file.
